She Walks Right Through Me
by Apocalyptic Mirage
Summary: AU: They had something. It was magical, and did not last. What is to become of them now is all in their hands. It had always been in their hands. Look where that got them.
1. With Jinx

(Warning: The story itself, title, and summary may all be subject to change.)

Their occurrence was hardly a coincidence, or it was the work of a pile of coincidences so complimentary that it seems impossible to have been simple happenstance. It was a tarot reading as opposed to a die roll. Their cards fell precisely in a beautiful synchronization that mimicked the very perfection in the feeling of their intertwining fingers, in the trepidation and excitement together and at once.

She would be poetic about it.

It was the feeling that defines the discovery of love, a feeling that is fleeting when you let it go without action. You let it go without a fight because you feel another feeling too. That feeling is fear, pure fear, not the inkling of nervousness or anxiety that pushes you to and away from something you desire much like the constant push and pull of the surf on the shore. Pure fear is entirely a suppressant that creeps up on you even at your strongest, and pounces on you while you are weakest. It becomes overwhelming, choking, stifling. It wins out if you let it, when you do nothing. It will lead you away from all other feelings like love and happiness until you forget things like that actually exist. It diminishes their value by tainting their memory with hideous grey washes of doubt, which lead to regret, which leads you to question whether you made up the all-encompassing thrill of cold noses, lips, and fingers meeting all that time ago when it seemed perfect.

She wishes to go back to the days before they let themselves fade, before they existed only in memory, because alone does not feel its worst until you realize what not alone feels like even if you can only vaguely remember the not alone like it was a tangible thing being kept at the edges of your reach where you can just about graze it, but never quite grab a hold. It hardly feels like feeling it. If you feel anything, it feels like you will never have it again because it is always going to be out of reach just like they will always be in the past. Wonderful memories become sickening to remember.

Wishing to go back starts to be just wishing not to be here in her now because the now sucks for her to be honest. Now is in this constant indecision to remember the before fondly or dread its happening, ashamed of herself. To do either is to dwell, and that would not do at all.

She knew better, but it seemed as if she had blinked and they were no more. Neither of them did a damn thing to stop it from happening either. They had allowed themselves to become this, to come to this, and that is what would eat at her soul the most. She could feel it too; her soul was damaged.

In a half-bitter, half-longing sort of way, she wondered how much meditation did it take to realign the other's mentality as if she had never touched her. If only she had some sort of healing method for herself; but no, she would have to leave the spiritual gash to the consoling of time.

If anything were proof of it happening, it would be that ugly scar on her psyche. That would be how it goes. You don't remember without regret. You only realize the good in the wake of its departure, in the bad it leaves behind.

She closes her eyes and the colors are still saturated in this overbearing grey that she cannot help notice the more she stares at it has the lightest hints of blue.

Jinx has no doubt that they had meant something and had been something, something special. Only that kind of thing left such damage, even if it was self-inflicted. She needs to regain her focus, and move on. She decides to get lost. She decides to get lost before she loses herself. She leaves. Like that, she is gone.


	2. With Raven

The romanticized sky is beautiful. It is simultaneously always there and never there to begin with. The sky is an idea, a placeholder for a concept that humans had yet to understand, and whether they do now or not, it is beautiful.

The colors were magnificent. She could entertain the sentiment of having never noticed something that had always been there. She would be kidding herself to pretend she was really thinking of that sky she was looking at while considering the idea, though. It was too clear that would just be projecting feelings she would need to quit entertaining. What's done is done just the same as what's gone is gone. No point in asking whether she appreciated it or not, was there?

Still, she was staring at the sky. It was beautiful. She was alone. She sighed, letting her hands cover her face to break from the sight. Her skin brushed against itself as she pushed her hands upward, feeling for contrast until her palm crossed her hairline with her fingers laced through the strands. She combed them out until her hair spread behind her like a fan, and instead of her forearms, her eyes were more level with the inside of her elbows. She uncovered herself from her arms with an exhalation of air much more forceful than a sigh. She was frustrated to see the same sky coming into focus from the darkness of her closed eyes, and she did not understand the unreasonable frustration.

Her arms landed palm up and outstretched reflexively. She could feel the pulsation of magic responding to her confused emotion(s). It was getting to that point.

"Are you okay, Raven?"

"No."

This was concerning for two reasons. The first reason was because no one understood why she had been acting so upset lately, Robin himself included. To hear her outright confirm the suspicion was less than spectacular. The second reason was because she had answered him instead of casually brushing it off, bluntly ignoring him, or throwing him off the roof in a fit. Raven was not always easy to understand, but Robin could tell when something was wrong, off. Something was getting to her. She was not angry; she was upset in a more distressing way. Angry, which he and the others were used to seeing on her, blows over. This upset was the sort that would not go so easily.

"If there's anything..."

There wasn't anything. They both knew that. It was the offer that mattered, the offer that was more of a reminder. They had a trust. Whatever she was going through would not have to be dealt with in solitude. She knew better than to isolate herself again.

Robin considered taking a spot beside Raven. She was not levitating as she usually was up there on the roof. She was laying almost sprawled on the concrete with her hood down and her closely cropped hair in a disarray. She looked sort of like she was in a disarray altogether.

"Don't be concerned, Robin. I'll be fine," she assured him. It did not sound fine just yet, but there was a firmness that implied she was certain she would be, as if she had to be if only eventually. Her tone reflected that of hers when they had first met, when Raven was a distant and mysterious ally instead of what they had evolved to be: friends.

The boy eventually left her to herself confident that this was much needed downtime, not the beginnings of her withdrawal.

By herself, Raven began her breathing exercises with her eyes wide open at the beautiful sky as a distraction. All her limbs were extended accordingly. Her arms straight across extended fully like her legs, which in her most comfortable jeans were angled specifically. These boots were heavier than her normal gear. It almost felt weird in them, but they fit her like a dream. The same went for the thick hoodie that was a contrast to her hero attire in the sense that it was also heavier, but the color of it was just the same. Her jeans looked faded against this, but she guesses that is exactly why she likes them.

Entirely relaxed, the excess, restless energy seeped out without harm, and she was collected.

Her eyes slipped as easily as that energy, and fell shut. She wound up exactly where she should not be: a memory. She shuddered and ripped herself out of it adamantly.

Still solidly on the roof, she resettled herself and regained her steady breathing pace. It was easier to concentrate with her eyes closed, but easier to get distracted all the same. It was not impossible to meditate with her eyes open. It tends to look almost twice as creepy, though, so she usually refrained from that method. Foreseeing no other interruption, even if it were so that she did not anticipate the first, she decided it was safe by her creepy self to be her creepy self.

Oddly, it was a white light that emitted from her eyes while she was in her trance. Much like the color of her irises, she never gets to really see it for herself. In fact, when her eyes glow, her sense of vision alters slightly. It altered in such a way that she could not explain it. She was too used to dealing with the shift that it hardly registered when it happens, or even that it happens at all.

This time, however, it was with deliberation, all the motions. She reviewed the entire process as she went along like she was feeling every clink of a lock tumbling open.

Breathing.

Concentration.

Will.

This was a grounding method of meditation, an unusual one for her, but not foreign. It was much more advisable to use this method on the actual ground, but it was again not impossible this way. Her connection was the pressure of gravity holding her to the building, which has structural rooting in the Earth itself.

The rush of power was comparable to water, and she was both floating and sinking in it. This was the part where she had to let go of the process again. She had to relax and fully submit to the magic's natural course. Like water, it felt gloriously refreshing to let it flow over her.

Coming to the end of the ritual, the process was done in reverse until she was focused on just herself again, severed from the stream of energy. For a lingering moment, it was all okay. It had been exactly what she needed. Then, she had to think about it. She had no clue why this was a good idea.

The sky was still beautiful, and she was still alone.


End file.
